


Savage Does Hannictober

by saintsavage



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: (Brief) Pet Death, Angst, Bad Puns, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Demons, Drabbles, Drunk Will Graham, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Hannibal Is Such A Bullshitter, Nigel Is A Shitty Texter, Sassy Will Graham, Shows Up Late With Starbucks, That Are Super Inaccurate, Uniform Kink, but don't worry HE COMES BACK, fall activities, ouija board shenanigans, pop culture references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-07-23 13:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 9,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsavage/pseuds/saintsavage
Summary: A collection of 100 word drabbles. Because I'm a wordy asshole and I want to practice writing shorter, more succinct things. Also I have no time, and limits are supposed to be good for the soul or something. Also-also all of these are probably going to be straight-up nonsense and have no place near canon.





	1. Sugar, Spice, and Everything... wait, Pumpkin Spice?

Will couldn't _fucking_ believe it. Hannibal Lecter. Count Hannibal Fucking Lecter, fancy doctor and food snob of the century, the man who was single-handedly keeping the plaid three piece suit industry afloat, went to Starbucks. It just. It didn't compute. Hannibal had a food blog that he lovingly curated! He insisted that they make every single thing in their kitchen from scratch! One time he literally made homemade "oreo" cookies just to keep Will from bringing the 'garish and obscene things' into his home. And that's a literal quote! He called snack cookies _obscene,_ and there he was, twenty minutes late to come and look at the latest crime scene, and he showed up with Starbucks.  
  
To be honest, Will wondered just how much time Hannibal spent on the internet, because even _he_ knew that was a thing, and he was a hermit who still used dial-up.  
  
"You're joking, right?" But Hannibal only smiled, one of the of borderline feral ones he reserved only for Will, and handed over a second drink helpfully labeled Graham.  
  
A few yards away, staring at what looked like the equivalent of human spaghetti, Jack hadn't yet reached meltdown mode, but he was _furious_. Will sipped at his latte, which was surprisingly okay for over sweetened hipster trash.  
  
Hannibal very pointedly did not look in Jack's direction, and his smile was growing. Will noticed the word 'The Dude' was scribbled on the other man's cup in the messy handwriting of a sleep-deprived college student.  
  
Clearly, he was hallucinating all of this, right?  
  
"Tell me Will, how long before you think the vein in dear Uncle Jack's left temple begins to throb? Shall we place a wager?"  
  
Will gives him a flat look. "You seriously showed up late, with _Starbucks_ , just to annoy Jack."  
  
"Naturally."  
  
"I knew I married you for a reason."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'm going to do 100 word drabbles!!!one1!
> 
> Also Me: ...the first one is 307 words after I cut five paragraphs.


	2. Will Graham Is A Sucker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Two: Apple Picking

Naturally Hannibal couldn't just go buy apples at the _store_ , or even at some upper-class farmer's market populated by gluten-free hippies. Hell, at one of those places it would really be two-for-one shopping for Hannibal, because there's no way he wouldn't run into somebody who was a dick there. They'd correct him on something he said, or sneer at his leather shoes, and two weeks later they'd be part of a gorgeous chuck roast marinated in like. Fucking wine or something. (Admittedly, Will's knowledge of cooking began and ended with fish. And he was _not_ ashamed of that fact.)  
  
Anyway, Hannibal had _insisted_ that Will accompany him to a fucking orchard in the back end of beyond.  
  
He'd looked so _vulnerable_. He had, ever since Budge, and that was only a few days ago, and apparently Will Graham, surly hermit extraordinaire, could not say no to Hannibal's Actual Sad Puppy Eyes. It was horrifying. He had a reputation to maintain! If it got out that he was a helpless idiot at the _slightest_ hint of somebody headed towards sadness - or, god forbid, _tears_ \- then he'd never get any peace! He couldn't terrorize his students and put the fear of the law and justice and shit into their hearts when they were thinking about him promising somebody anything as long as they would just stop having feelings in his general direction.  
  
So, apple picking it was. In an orchard. When it was _freezing_. Because Hannibal had asked him, had hinted that he got anxious being alone since the attack, and how the hell was Will supposed to say no after that? _'Gee, sorry you almost got murdered by a serial killer that I really should have arrested, but you can fuck off for all I care.'_  
  
"Will? Are you coming?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
With a heavy sigh, Will hefted up the basket that was getting heavier and heavier by the minute.  
  
 _I swear to god if Freddie Lounds manages to get a picture of this I don't care what Jack says I'm going to strangle her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 343 words. Because I have no control over myself and these stream-of-consciousness posts are entertaining to write?
> 
> Also in this Will obviously knows about the cannibal thing, but he's pretty ambivalent about it?


	3. We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Three: Crossroads

He hadn't been at a crossroads like this since he was eight years old, cold and scared and heartbroken. His first dog, Murphy, had been hit by a car, and it was pouring down rain but all Will knew is that his best friend was dying, that there was nothing he could do about it and it wasn't _fair_.  
  
 _If dad just would have fixed the fence..._  
  
 _If I noticed Murphy wasn't in my room earlier..._  
  
If, if, if. But none of his wishing was doing any good.  
  
Blood was seeping into his worn jeans, and Murphy kept whining softly, and nuzzling Will's hand. Offering comfort as though Will had any right to it at all. He just remembered thinking, _I'd give anything for him to be okay. We don't have any money, and Dad will be so angry if I even dare to ask, but Murphy is all I have. He's the only living creature that gives a damn about me._  
  
"Hello there."  
  
It was like he'd blinked, and suddenly a man was there with him. In the dark, in the rain. Smiling sharply at Will's bent head.  
  
Something in Will compelled him to ask, to plead. "Please, my dog-"  
  
"Is dead."  
  
And he was. Murphy had slipped away a few minutes ago, chest rattling painfully.  
  
"I'm alone."  
  
His anguish must have meant something to the man - who was _not_ a man - because he sighed and kneeled down.  
  
"I can save your dog, Will."  
  
"How?"  
  
"This is a crossroads. Blood has been spilled and a plea made. We can make a deal."  
  
"For... for what?" Will was hesitant. He didn't really believe in all that stuff, magic and god and miracles, but for Murphy he was willing to take a leap of faith. It wouldn't make his dog any less dead if he was wrong.  
  
"What if I said your soul?"  
  
"I don't believe in those."  
  
"Then how about a kiss?" Will's nose scrunched up in little-boy disgust, and the man's smile grew sharper. "Not now, little Will. I want a specific kiss. Your first. To be given at your leisure."  
  
A kiss... that didn't seem like such a high price to pay. He'd have given more if the man had asked it of him.  
  
"Okay."  
  
The man had pressed a hand to Murphy's side, and sure enough, Murphy was whole again, unharmed. All at once Will was reminded about all the things he heard back in Louisiana, about devils bargains and voodoo. "Is he... is he going to be normal? Is this like the monkey's paw?"  
  
The man seemed delighted by the reference, scratching absently at Murphy's ears.  
  
"He'll live, Will, his normal lifespan. A long, healthy life. I would say at least nine more years, depending on his care."  
  
And Murphy had lived nine years, almost to the day. No, not almost, _exactly_. With a sigh, seventeen year old Will Graham finished burying Murphy at the crossroads where he'd been hit all those years ago. He'd stolen his old man's truck and driven across four state lines to do it, but it seemed right.  
  
Not to mention, he still had a debt to pay.  
  
"Hello again, Will."  
  
Out of the shadows, the man - _no, he's not a man, he's not so weak as that_ \- appeared, strolling towards Will. It made him nervous, but also... excited. He'd learned a lot in the past few years, about all the forbidden subjects filed under the header of make believe. He'd learned about himself too, about the darkness within him. The violence. And he knew without a doubt that he'd never find an equal on Earth.  
  
But the demon he'd bargained with?  
  
He just _might_ be worth chasing. Will owed him a kiss, afterall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 624 words, and 100% of it is word vomit. I have no self control.


	4. Dusk Isn't A Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Four: Dusk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have forgotten to queue this up while I was away for the weekend, my bad. But hey, extended universe characters making an appearance!

Adam didn't understand, exactly, what Nigel went when he sent a text message that said _meet me @ dusk in park bby_ \- dusk wasn't a precise time. He could easily look up the exact time the sun would set, but dusk seemed to be this strange, oddly undefined time period and it made Adam anxious trying to decipher what his very new boyfriend meant by his message.  
  
After ten minutes of fretting, squeezing the globe-shaped stress ball Nigel had gotten him on their first date, his shoulders sagged and he admitted defeat. He didn't want to be late, but he didn't know what time to leave if Nigel didn't tell him, which meant he would need to ask, even if he hated doing so.  
  
Their relationship was still so new. It was surprising to him, just how comfortable he was with the rather large, brash, vulgar man who had moved into the apartment next door, and that made him very hesitant to do anything to remind Nigel that he wasn't neurotypical. He didn't want him to leave, like Beth.  
  
Adam: _Nigel, dusk is not a time._  
  
While he waited, he tapped out a rhythm against his legs, anxiety building up, but Nigel didn't make him wait for very long.  
  
Nigel: _shit sorry darlin I meant 6:30pm_  
  
Adam: _You should have just said that, Nigel._  
  
Adam could feel his brow wrinkle briefly in annoyance, but it was difficult to be angry with Nigel, especially when he was always so very sincere and tried harder than anyone Adam had ever met to understand him.  
  
Nigel: _u r right, star, I should have, I'm an idiot_  
  
Adam: _Perhaps, but you're mine. I'm coming now, I'll see you soon?_  
  
Nigel: _can't wait, angel_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHA THIS ONE IS UNDER 300.


	5. Costume Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark Five: Costume Party

It came as a shock to most of his students, and fellow teachers, and the agents he worked with... and well, damn near _anyone_ who had spent more than ten minutes in Will's presence, but it just so happened that Halloween was actually his favorite holiday on the planet. _And the only one with any damn merit._ He liked everything about it really, the traditions, dressing up and getting plastered on apple cider, watching gory horror flicks and passing out candy... it was probably the only thing he allowed himself to enjoy with relish.  
  
That said, he still spent Halloween alone - liking something didn't mean he would magically change and become social just because Jack kept throwing bigger and bigger Halloween parties in an effort to coax him out. Will couldn't be bought with candy corn and deluxe editions of the Nightmare On Elm Street DVD's. He had _standards_.  
  
Unfortunately, said standards were homemade caramel apples drizzled in... _was that some kind of rum icing? And hand-roasted peanuts?_  
  
Hannibal had shown up at his door almost an hour ago with all kinds of festive gourmet offerings, a copy of the original Nosferatu, and - the _best_ part - he was wearing what had to be a custom-made Halloween costume: Hannibal was the devil.  
  
It's like he knew Will had impulsively picked up a a halo and a pair of wings two weeks ago.  
  
"I still can't believe you managed to bribe your way into my house. Again. Who told you anyway?"  
  
"I believe it was Alana Bloom, when I inquired as to why dear Uncle Jack needed a recipe for caramel apples and had hired an entire group of actor's to perform as vampires at his party, at least initially."  
  
Will paused in the middle of taking a huge bite out of his apple, trying to talk around said bite in a way Hannibal found charming and horrifying. Finally he swallowed and was able to speak clearly. "Initially?"  
  
"Yes. Then Beverly Katz pulled me aside and asked if I knew anything about classic horror movies. Apparently she felt intimidated by your knowledge."  
  
"It's not my fault she hasn't seen any of the original Halloween movies."  
  
"After that, her _coworkers both_ stopped me asking if I knew of any good costume companies, because last year you made some... remarks, about their outfits?"  
  
"They weren't even dressed up! Wearing a shirt that says 'Body #2' and 'Lackey' don't count. Brian tried to say they were unnamed characters from a crime show, but that's just lazy."  
  
"Have you always enjoyed this holiday then, Will?"  
  
"It's the only time I felt normal growing up, and that's still true now. When what's inside my head matches the real world, and nobody is afraid of it. Nightmares walk." Suddenly, the moment seemed too much for them. Too heavy and fraught with meaning.  
  
In typical Will fashion, he upended the moment right on it's head. "Plus I get to gorge myself on candy and use a bad Dracula accent went my students annoy me."  
  
Hannibal only smiled, offering Will a jug of hard apple cider that he very obviously made himself. "Why do you avoid Jack's yearly party, then?"  
  
"To annoy the shit out of him. You should see his face when I say it's not hardcore enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 549 and I REGRET NOTHING.


	6. Suit Inferno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Six: Bonfire

Okay, so _maybe_ setting most of Hannibal's wardrobe on fire in the yard wasn't his best moment, but Will was drunk and still pissed as hell about the whole _getting framed for murder and thrown in a mental institution thing,_ and a clothing bonfire seemed like the best possible response.  
  
Plus it was October, weren't bonfires a thing then? Gathering around them and telling spooky stories?  
  
What could be more spooky than the glow of forty or so plaid suits burning to ash in the yard of the cannibal who owned said suits?  
  
In his defense, what happened next could have happened to _anybody_ who had a bottle and a half of really good whiskey, and it's not his fault. If it is his fault, it's only like, _40%_ his fault and the rest is all on Hannibal. Because it's not like Will would have set anything on fire in the first place if Hannibal could just have feelings like a normal fucking person.  
  
He stumbled into the fire when the familiar "Hello Will" was heard behind him.  
  
Hannibal managed to pull him out with minimal burns, and even treated said burns himself upstairs in his fancy as hell bathroom - and wasn't even mean about it, considering the raging Suit Inferno that Hannibal had needed to help put out because Will was too hammered. But he also wasn't talking, and Will hated that.  
  
"You know, this is your fault."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"You gave me to Chilton." Hannibal paused in his ministrations, eyes narrowing at the wording. But he didn't disagree.  
  
"I was only trying-"  
  
"Well, your methods suck. Next time I vote for a dramatic reveal followed by making out on the couch like normal people." Okay, maybe he shouldn't have just blurted it out like that, but he had no filter when he was drinking, and it was very satisfying to see Hannibal completely freeze up in the moments that followed, unable to compute what Will had more or less just admitted.  
  
_Super_ satisfying.  
  
"I had not considered that as a viable option."  
  
"That's because you're _stupid_."  
  
"Apparently."  
  
"Big dumb idiot." Will started giggling, watching as Hannibal's face shifted from appalled to charmed to disgusted with himself for being charmed. "Are we at the part of the fight where we make up yet? Because I am very interested in that part."  
  
"No, we are at the part where I give you a painkiller and some antibiotics and tuck you into bed."  
  
" _Boring_."  
  
"And in the morning, we can try your methods."  
  
"Done and done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 424\. I have no idea what this even is.


	7. Business of Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Corn Maze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I'm the worst. I got behind because of a wedding I had to attend, and at this particular prompt I wanted to do something related to my Cliff series, but then it got Out Of Hand and was like... 3k? So I just banged this out instead. I'm hopefully going to get caught back up today since I, by some miracle, don't have to work!

Some murders were more interesting than others. It was just a fact even if Jack always made a face when Will told him as much.  
  
And the ones around Halloween? Between the liquor, a dozen new horror movies, and the overall "spookiness" of the holiday, it's like that's when all the repressed creativity in the world burst right the hell out... and a lot of that tended to be funneled into murder.  
  
Take this case right now. Will was standing in the middle of a corn maze looking at a human scarecrow who had been cut open, stuffed with cornstalks, and sewn back together. He even had button eyes.  
  
According to Beverly, there was also an ear of corn shoved in a _very_ interesting location.  
  
And it _wasn't_ the guy's ass, which meant Brian's first guess lost him $20.  
  
Personally, Will would bet the throat, but he wasn't allowed to play the Interesting Fact About The Murder game because he usually knew the answer before the question had even been asked. (On the bright side, it didn't mean he wasn't allowed to give hints and usually Beverly split the winnings with him when he helped.)  
  
Anyway, the point was, Halloween brought out the crazy when it came to the business of murder, and it was refreshing. One could only look at so many high-concept corpse displays that required a lot of thinking and knowledge of obscure references before it became _annoying as shit_. Being able to look at a body and go ' _yeah, somebody was hammered and had just watched the Wizard of Oz on acid after a bad breakup_ ' was nice.  
  
Will really needed to redefine his definition of nice.  
  
Behind him, like clockwork, Hannibal approached. He took time to view the body, careful not to interrupt whatever Will might have been thinking. _He's too used to me sinking into the minds of the really gory fuckers. This was a cakewalk._ "What do you think?" Though he didn't turn to face him, Will could see Hannibal tilt his head in thought, regarding the body before him.  
  
"I must say, I haven't seen anything quite like it."  
  
"No shit. Not everyday somebody decides to make a scarecrow out of people."  
  
"Truly, you must applaud the ingenuity. It's rather... amaizeing."  
  
Will groaned. "You're the worst."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 384 words.


	8. Self Discovery via Apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Eight: Scythe

Will has learned a lot about himself in the years following the apocalypse. For starters, living in the middle of nowhere was a good place to be when things when to shit. He also remembered a lot more about, like, woods survival and stuff than he really expected? Which was also good. It meant he could forage in the woods for what he needed, and his house was originally built in the 1920s, so it wasn't hard to keep it warm with the fireplace in the living room.  
  
He already knew he didn't prefer social interaction. That his dogs were all he really needed. Except, that wasn't true, was it? There was one _noted_ exception to this rule and said exception had turned up on his doorstep within 48 hours of the catastrophe, seeming to think they were going to put aside their differences in order to survive. Said differences at the time being cannibalism and the little matter of Hannibal _framing him for murder_. You know, little things. Minor details.  
  
What Will hadn't expected was that Hannibal would turn up with Abigail Hobbs and Miriam fucking Lass in tow.  
  
Like, WHO DOES THAT.  
  
(Hannibal, that's who.)  
  
So that's about when Will learned that he wasn't as angry at Hannibal as he thought, now that Abigail was alive. That he knew she hadn't been sacrificed just to hurt him twice over. That Hannibal had spared someone like Miriam because she wasn't an animal to him. It spoke of promise, of the idea that Hannibal wasn't some hardcore sociopath who genuinely gave no shits about anybody. It meant he had feelings, somewhere, and Will could definitely work with that.  
  
Not that he was thinking about it then. Hannibal was still 100% In Time Out.  
  
Anyway, Will learned that he was a lot more protective of "his" people than he'd ever even _begun_ to imagine, especially when groups started forming, cults and raiders, and they stumbled upon their little farm and thought they'd found easy pickings.  
  
Will had no problem with throwing those people in the stew pot, either. Another fun little fact about himself that he tried not to dwell on too much.  
  
Probably the most damning thing, and simultaneously the most freeing, was watching Hannibal chop somebody in half, with a _scythe_ , and all he could think of was how he could get the other man to do that again. Maybe topless. Preferably somewhere private so Will could properly show his appreciation for just how goddamn hot it was that Hannibal could even do that... oh god. Will was fucked, wasn't he?  
  
Strangely, learning that felt good. Right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 438 words. I don't even know what this is.


	9. Haunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Nine: Haunting

Hannibal gently brushed away the sweaty curls from Will's brow, feeling the heat of his fever even as his other hand came up to check his pulse. _Another mild seizure, then._ Nothing to be overly concerned about and he would monitor him carefully for the next few days.  
  
Will was muttering under his breath now that it had stopped, but Hannibal couldn't make out the words.  
  
Curious, he asked. "I can't hear you Will. Can you speak up for me?"  
  
"Full house, ain't it?"  
  
That was... unexpected. Hannibal took a moment to glance around his empty dining room, wondering if perhaps Will was hallucinating again, and when he returned his gaze to Will it was to see the other man's eyes pinned on him, _very_ clear and almost sharply aware. "Are we ever going to talk about this, Dr. Lecter?"  
  
"About what, Will?"  
  
But Will had already slumped over, out cold.  
  
\---------  
  
Later, after his release, Will was always so tense, so _angry_. Perhaps it was beneath him, but sometimes Hannibal drugged his wine. Nothing harmful, just enough to take the edge off, to make sure Will got some much needed rest. He missed seeing him this way, pliant and vulnerable, content to doze on Hannibal's couch without fear. On this particular evening Will wasn't asleep just yet, merely drowsy, limp and so very soft as Hannibal helped him lie back on the sofa. He was muttering again, talking to someone, and Hannibal couldn't help but want to call him back to the present. "Will?"  
  
Sleepy eyes turned to him, glazed with what Hannibal wanted to think was fondness. But there was frustration there too - Will was aware enough of the fact that Hannibal drugged him, and had done so before, but so far neither mentioned it. "Gonna have to admit it eventually, Hannibal." The words were both soft and slurred, without his usual biting acidity.  
  
"Admit what, exactly?" Hannibal moved to brush back Will's hair from his face but Will jerked back, uncoordinated and suddenly angry.  
  
"Don't. Not until... you've got her somewhere. I'd see her if you didn't."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't understand your meaning, Will."  
  
"Abigail Hobbs. She's alive." Hannibal froze, disbelieving. Will was sinking into unconsciousness and he wanted nothing more than to shake him awake and to demand just how he had come across that information. _How had he gleaned it from me, when I've been so careful to hide it? How could he possibly know she'd been spared?_  
  
"And how do you know that?"  
  
"I could talk to her, if she wasn't."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Same way I talk to her." Groggily Will gestured to the open air near the fireplace.  
  
"Who?"  
  
But there was no answer, Will was asleep and Hannibal was... unsettled.  
  
\---------  
  
The next time Hannibal led him upstairs, removing Will's shoes and lying him in the guest bed, not expecting more information but hoping for it regardless. And for once, Will was not stubborn and offered of his mind freely. "What did you mean before, Will? That you could speak to Abigail, if she was no longer alive?"  
  
"Always could do it." A huge, wide yawn broke up his next words.  
  
"Could do what?"  
  
Will's eyes turned towards the foot of the bed and a clumsy hand patted the space next to him, the offer made to empty air. "C'mere sweetheart. It's okay."  
  
"Will, who are you speaking to?"  
  
"She's cold. Always cold, scared too."  
  
"Who?" Hannibal cannot help that his tone has grown sharp, edged in ice. Because the implications of Will's words... he thinks about it again. About all the times Will seemed to be seeing things within Hannibal's home that were not there. The looks towards the pantry, the way he watched Hannibal cook and sometimes he grimaced, even before he was aware. But was that the truth?  
  
"I always knew, you know. They told me. Watched as you ate them, fed them to me." _No, that isn't possible._ "It's how I really see for Jack. I'm not magic, and the supposed evidence that I'm reading? Just a voice in my ear, telling me everything I need to know."  
  
"You're saying you speak to.. spirits."  
  
"Yeah. And you're the most haunted man I've ever known."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...704 words. I swear I know the meaning of '100 words drabbles' I apparently just have zero respect for the concept because I am a wordy motherfucker.


	10. She'll Adapt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Ten: Scarves

It's silk. He's noticed that about her, the way her small, pale hands gravitate to different textures. The enjoyment there, when she thinks nobody is looking. Likely the only things she'd known before had been sturdy wool and dependable cotton, maybe cheap satin for a nightdress, and she was helpless towards the luxury afforded to her, now that she had something to conceal. It was an allowable crutch.  
  
Personally, Hannibal didn't think she was upset about the scar, nor did he believe that she genuinely cared what others thought. Hiding was part of the persona she'd crafted in order to survive the fallout and he applauded her efforts, even if said craftsmanship left something to be desired. _Not that it matters, she is young and shows great promise. She'll adapt._  
  
With this in mind, he allows himself to indulge her, to provide her with hand-printed scarves from Italy made of fine silk, with heavier ones made from cashmere so soft it was like a whisper against the skin. All gifts Alana frowned upon, but made no effort to actively discourage. He knows her own sincere offering of plain plaid wool went unworn in the back of Abigail's closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm! Catching! Up!
> 
> Also, with this prompt, I had to talk about Abigail. HAD TO.
> 
> Also, 198 words WHAT.


	11. Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Eleven: Trick or Treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I'M SO BEHIND ON THIS.

It's close to midnight and someone is very insistently ringing his doorbell. If said individual wasn't _also_ singing some off-key version of what Hannibal thinks if 'Spooky Scary Skeletons' at the top of his lungs, he might have been concerned. As it was... he was curious what brought Will Graham to him at this hour. He knows the BSU had a Halloween party earlier in the evening, which Hannibal had briefly attended at Jack's invitation, but when he'd last seen him Will had been snickering in the corner with Beverly Katz.  
  
Opening the door reveals a rather disheveled Will, wearing both a witch hat and dog ears attached to some sort of headband. The happy grin he gives Hannibal in greeting is almost comical, and he smells like he's been swimming in a veritable sea of fruity cocktails. "Trick'er'tre 'annibal!"  
  
"Will?" Hannibal's tone is cautious, though he's quick to step to the side and gesture for the other man to enter.  
  
"Can'y! I trick'er'treatin. Look, I go'a hat n' e'rythin'." Somehow Will has procured a plastic trash bag, and to Hannibal's horror there's actually small pieces of candy inside. Which means his is _not_ the first stop Will has made this evening.  
  
Worried eyes glance to the driveway, but Will's car isn't in sight. _Surely he didn't drive?_ "I can see that. Are those dog ears?"  
  
"Yeah! Fuck yeah. Bark bark!" Practically stumbling into the foyer, Will gratefully accepts Hannibal's steadying hand which leads him down the hall and into the study.  
  
"I don't believe dogs say the word 'bark', Will. May I ask, did you drive here?" _However did he manage to sneak away from dear uncle Jack in such a state?_  
  
"Fuck. Y'ar right." Will's slurring is atrocious, but it's also impossibly charming to see him so very, very relaxed as his brow furrows and he struggles to get the plastic bag off of his arm - dumping half the candy on the floor in the process. "S'ok. Imma magic dog." The bag finally relents, floating the the floor, and Will nods to himself, extremely pleased with the accomplishment, only to turn his head in confusion at Hannibal's question. "Wha'? Nah, no, nope. Uber!"  
  
That means he's stranded here for the evening. _Excellent_. Hannibal keeps his thoughts concealed, not willing to risk Will being just as observant while so thoroughly drunk as he is sober. It wouldn't do for him to know just how pleased Hannibal is to have lured him here with simply his presence. Although, it must be said, I've never seen him this debauched. _And I have certainly seen the man drink to excess before._ "A magic dog."  
  
Will points to the crown of his head and the pointed, glittery hat that's somewhat askew from his previous efforts with the bag. "Hat!"  
  
"I see."  
  
"I got ya somethin' too." With a flourish, Will plucks a headband out from the inside of his coat. They're ears. _Cat_ ears. Hannibal recalls seeing a whole bowl of similar headbands with animal ears attached near the door of the party, last minute costumes for those who hadn't chosen to dress up.  
  
Dodging Will, who is suddenly too close, grabbing at Hannibal's sides and arms and head while trying to place the ears on him, Hannibal moves to the other side of the room, hoping to get Will some water. "Will, please, allow me to-"  
  
Unfortunately, Will has managed to secure the ears on Hannibal's head. "EARS! You a kitty cat. Mrow."  
  
"Will." Sighing heavily, he turns around to face the other man, only to be confronted with the flash of a cell phone and a mischievous grin that strikes him as a little _too_ cognizant. "Will!"  
  
"Say jeez!"  
  
"I believe you mean cheese." Another sigh, maneuvering Will until he's sitting on the couch - which quickly becomes Will lying down with his head in Hannibal's lap, eyes closed and content.  
  
"Yeah. That." The words are followed by unintelligible babbling and a few grunts as Will shifts, attempting to get comfortable and slowly but surely moving more and more into Hannibal's lap.  
  
"You know Will. I can't help but remember the numerous occasions I have seen you intoxicated." Idly, Hannibal brushes back a curl from Will's head, knocking the hat off in the process. Perhaps it isn't kind, to call Will out, but when has he ever been kind? "That is to say, I have _never_ seen you intoxicated, not even after downing a bottle and a half of very good bourbon."  
  
"I'm definitely drunk." Those words are very, very clear. After a moment one blue eye peeks open, eyebrows raised and cheeks flushed. Will looks lovely like this, guilty and caught out. "...there might have been a bet. It _might_ have gotten out of hand." A pause. "Beverly said I couldn't get you to wear the cat ears. Too dignified."  
  
"And you sought to prove her wrong?" Admittedly, Hannibal is pleased by Will's brazenness.  
  
"Maybe." The words are bashful, with a stubborn edge.  
  
"May I ask why the ruse?" Now that he's been exposed, Hannibal expected Will to sit up - or worse, leave. But he's done neither, content to be draped halfway across Hannibal, leaning into the hand running through his curls.  
  
"I figured you'd let me get in the door easier if you thought I was hammered."  
  
Hannibal tilts his head slightly, regarding him and spotting the omission. "That's not all. You know I'd have worn the ears without question, had you asked."  
  
"I know." Such soft words, hardly spoken at all. "Maybe I thought if we both pretended I was drunk I could get a little handsy. That you'd let me."  
  
"I'd let you do so sober."  
  
A heavy swallow, and unfortunately Will does sit up then, replacing Hannibal's hand in his hair with his own and tossing the dog ears to the floor. He's no longer making eye contact. "But then we'd have to _talk_ about it. Like we're doing. Right now."  
  
"I was under the impression that you enjoyed our conversations."  
  
"I do. You know I do." A brief glance, full of sincerity. Will is always at his most dangerous when he's genuine, just as Hannibal is. Sure enough there's a tug at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile. "But sometimes I'm just a good southern boy who was raised not to talk about... well. _That_."  
  
"That."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What a charming euphemism."  
  
Will laughs, and the sound is golden. "Shut up."  
  
"So if one does not talk about 'that', how does one go about-"  
  
"Oh my god stop it." Now that he's no longer pretending to be inebriated, Will scrambles into Hannibal's lap again, with much more grace, framing his face with his hands. "I will literally give you a blowjob in exchange for your silence right now."  
  
"How quaint."  
  
"Well, you taking the offer or not?" One eyebrow raises up, challenging.  
  
"I thought we weren't talking about it?"  
  
"You're an asshole, Hannibal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1159 words. Self control, what's that?


	12. Just Try It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Twelve: Candy Corn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello what is basically straight dialogue.

"So you've _never_ had it."  
  
"No, I have not."  
  
"Then you can't say you don't like it."  
  
"Will-"  
  
"Just try some. Come on, please?"  
  
"I will have one piece, but then you will stop pestering me about mass-produced, gas station candy."  
  
"You're such a snob. Fine, I'll stop making you try candy even though it's _delicious_ and you should be thanking me."  
  
"Very well." Like a finicky cat, Hannibal took a single piece of candy corn between his fingers, eyeing it with distaste and turning it a few times as though studying it before nibbling a small portion off. He attempted to make a disgusted face, but he took another small bite. And another.  
  
"And?"  
  
"It isn't horrible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 118 words I WAS SO CLOSE TO ONE OF THESE MEETING MY RULES WHAT.


	13. Misty Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Thirteen: Misty Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow managed to lose this prompt and was confused as to why I was only on chapter 13 but prompt 14.

"Alright, that's it. I quit."

"Will?"

"That's a FOG MACHINE."

"...yes?"

"The Ripper set up a fucking FOG MACHINE. FOR AESTHETIC MURDER PURPOSES."

"I believe he was trying to convey the tone of a crisp, misty morning."

"But the weather wasn't co-operating with his vision, so he improvised?"

"You have to admit, it does lend a certain something to the image. A gravitas. The cloaked reaper, standing above his charge, ready to usher her-"

Angrily, Will stomped off, intending on getting in his car and driving home where he could drink and cuddle his dogs and not tear his hair out in exasperation because his cannibalistic therapist sometimes boyfriend was a dramatic little _shit_ and it was too early in the goddamn morning for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 125 words, and they are all 100% of the 'Oh shit I missed a prompt QUICK SAY SOMETHING' variety.


	14. Semantics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Fourteen: Curse

"It's a fucking _curse_ , Hannibal. There are rules and they're very specific. You just don't break it with a snap of your fingers."  
  
"Then tell me the rules, Will."  
  
"I don't get true love's kiss, that's for damn sure."  
  
"You'd be free already, if that was the case."  
  
"I have to be loved for what I am, _all_ that I am. I have to win the love of a good woman, be the father to a good man. And I have to see the unseen and survive it."  
  
Gentle hands brush unknowing against the silver chains Will has cloaked himself in - keeping the beast at bay, but trapping him here, in this place. Tethered to a part of the world that has no love for him. He cannot leave. He's bound here. No matter how much he wishes otherwise.  
  
"Curses are so often deeper than you'd expect, and at the same time... it is all semantics, is it not?" Hannibal tilts his head to the side, regarding Will with sharp-eyed precision. "I am a man who can love a monster. I _am_ a man who _does_ love a monster, who can see you this way and not flinch." With consideration, Hannibal steps back, and Will shivers in place. "Alana Bloom is a pure soul, golden and light. And she loves you Will, as a brother. As her _family_." The chains rattle. Will knows that Hannibal can't see them - no one can, except for him and the witch who placed them. But it feels as though he can. "You've seen me, in all of my terrible glory, and kept seeing, a feat no other has managed."  
  
"Still not a father." His tone is rueful. How can he be, with inclinations like his?  
  
"It could be said that you are father to your dogs, the parent that loves, comforts, and shelters." At mention of them, the dogs move closer, tails wagging hesitantly, unsure about this stranger but too friendly to help themselves.  
  
"They aren't men though, are they?"  
  
"They could be. After all, if there anything more good than man's best friend?"  
  
"Hannibal?"  
  
But he isn't listening, he's knelt with the dogs all around him, hand on Winston's head, muttering something soft. An inky blackness seeps from his hand, coating Winston's head, and the dog jerks, suddenly afraid. "Hannibal, Hannibal what are you- don't hurt him-" Hannibal does not relent, and the darkness spreads as the chanting grows.  
  
And in Winston's place, there is a boy of sixteen, gasping.  
  
Will's chains vanish. "What... Hannibal what are you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 425 words. I am suddenly very attached to this idea and may come back to it some day.


	15. Now It's A Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Fifteen: Fake Blood

"Fuck, that was messier than I thought it would be."  
  
"Stabbing often is."  
  
"Shut up. You loved it."  
  
"I did."  
  
"Where are we headed, anyway? Home?"  
  
"We promised to make an appearance at Jack's party. It would be rude not to turn up."  
  
"Uh, Hannibal, are you forgetting something?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"We're covered in blood! There's a body in the trunk! We can't just roll up to a party-"  
  
"You worry too much. You seem to be forgetting that it's Halloween."  
  
"Half the FBI is in there! You really think they're going to think this is fake blood?"  
  
"Care to place a wager?"  
  
"You're insane. _Actually_ insane."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 106 words SO CLOSE. I'm giving myself credit for trying to follow my own rules once.


	16. Maybe He's Both?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Sixteen: Seance.

"Beverly I am _not_ going to a seance!" Will refuses to call his tone indignant.  
  
"Where's your sense of adventure? And aren't you from New Orleans anyway?"  
  
"I shot my sense of adventure in the backyard. And what does that have to do with anything?"  
  
"It's spooky there!"  
  
" _What_." Will is able to make intuitive leaps of genius that have been called impossible more than once, but even _he_ can't always follow Beverly's logic. The woman is in a league of her own.  
  
Naturally, she's not going to enlighten him. "Besides, we're gathering intel. And nobody is going to buy Jack as anything but a doomsayer."  
  
"So what, we're going to pretend we want to talk to ghosts?"  
  
Exasperation leaks into her voice as she continues tugging him to the strange, out-of-the-way theater where the so-called 'event' is being held. "Listen, the killer believes in this hoodoo-voodoo stuff, okay? And, while this guy is probably a con artist, he's also the most well-known psychics in the area right now. He might have some information on his little followers."  
  
"Or he could be a boring asshole."  
  
"Just think Will, maybe he's both!" Beverly's smile is downright unholy under the streetlamps.  
  
"I hate you." Looking up, Will can see a tastefully lit sign, _Hannibal Lecter, medium. Tonight only, 9pm_. "What kind of name is Hannibal anyway? Fucking ridiculous. He probably changed it. I bet his real name is like... James. Stan. _Bob_."  
  
"I like it, even if it is fake. Sounds noble. Regal, even."  
  
"Yeah. Hannibal Lecter, King of the Assholes."  
  
Someone steps out of the shadows. A very tall someone, with cheekbones that could cut glass. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure."  
  
"Shit!" Will absolutely did not jump nearly a foot in the air. He _didn't_. He was a serious professor, he worked for the FBI, he did not get startled. Not even by creepy dudes lurking in the goddamn shadows. "Sorry. Fuck. I didn't see you there. You uh, startled me."  
  
"That is rather the point of this evening, is it not?" A graceful hand is held out, and Will can't help feeling like he's being judged. And also laughed at, just a little. "Hannibal Lecter."  
  
"I thought this was about talking to ghosts and conning idiots?"  
  
"That too."  
  
"Wow. You're shameless aren't you?"  
  
Hannibal bows. Fucking _bows_ , the edges of his mouth curved up in the vaguest hint of a smirk.  
  
Beverly, of course, is torn between shock and outright grinning like a loon like this is the best exchange she's seen in her life. Sometimes Will questions why she's his best friend. "Uh, hi. I'm Beverly, Beverly Katz. This grumpy asshole is Will Graham. He may or may not be here under duress."  
  
"Oh? And what shall we do about that, Mr. Graham?"  
  
He was grinning again, like he had plenty of Ideas About That. Funnily enough, if those ideas involved Hannibal's dressing room and literally fucking the smug out of the man, Will was on board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 500 words.


	17. Right of Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Seventeen: Ouija Board.

"Come on, you never messed with a Ouija Board? Ever?" Will seemed genuinely surprised by this information. They'd returned to Abigail's home, intent on packing up what remained so the house could (hopefully) be sold, and had come across the board hidden in the top of Abigail's closet.  
  
"It wasn't exactly a commonly featured object during my adolescence."  
  
Suddenly uncomfortable, Abigail pulled the box to her chest like they'd uncovered a secret she didn't mean to reveal. "Dad didn't like having one in the house. Marissa... well, she thought it would be fun to try. It was our secret. Our own thing. I liked having something he didn't know about, you know?"  
  
\----  
  
"Will?" It had been a long day at the office, ended with an emergency session with Franklyn that left him feeling vaguely unclean. He was looking forward to unwinding a bit with Will before cooking dinner, but those plans were to be thwarted it appeared, as Hannibal could smell Abigail's faint perfume in the foyer.  
  
Sure enough, Will beckoned him from further inside the house. "We're in the study."  
  
Curious, Hannibal followed the sound to the source. And what he found within... "Will what's-" The furniture had all been pushed to the side, except for the round coffee table, and the lights were off, the room instead lit by what appeared to be half a candle store. Pillows and a few blankets had been arranged around the coffee table, which bore Abigail's Ouija Board. "Hello Abigail."  
  
"Don't make that face. Come on, it's practically a right of passage. _You're welcome_."  
  
"It was his idea."  
  
"I'm very certain it was. This is a very... _unique_ set-up."  
  
"Aren't you charming. Here I thought you'd appreciate the ambiance."  
  
"I'm fairly certain you've lit every single candle that I own."  
  
"Not true. I went out and bought these special so you could bitch about the conflicting smell."  
  
Hannibal huffed, unable to help stiffening at the remark. Will had a knack for needling him. "I do not-"  
  
"Yes you do."  
  
Wisely, Abigail said nothing, but a smile was threatening to take over her mouth if she wasn't careful.  
  
With the air of a man greatly aggrieved, Hannibal removed his jacket and approached the pair, eyeing the board with no efforts to conceal his distaste. "Very well, you seem quite intent upon giving me this experience. How does one begin?"  
  
From her position slightly behind Hannibal, Abigail's grin took on a mischievous cast and she mouthed the words ' _you have him whipped_ ' to Will - who did his best not to choke on the generous portion of whiskey he'd doled out for himself.  
  
"Alright, you want a drink first?"  
  
"I suppose I must. It is part of the ritual, is it not?"  
  
"Yup. Tipsy and stupid, top two traits of teenagers everywhere."  
  
"Gee, thanks."  
  
"You're welcome, Abby, although don't think we're giving you alcohol for this. You're sticking to cider."  
  
"Lame."  
  
"Hush." Will offered Hannibal a glass of his favorite red wine - a slight peace offering that Hannibal reluctantly accepted, if only because he knew he'd need it for whatever Will had planned next. "Okay, so we all have to sit around the table - criss-cross applesauce style - and hold hands."  
  
Hannibal looked like he might rebel at that. "Criss-cross applesauce."  
  
All Abigail could think was: _Alana is never, ever going to believe this._  
  
"Yes, Your Highness. Don't be sassy." Will and Abigail did just that, folding themselves at opposite ends until Hannibal gave a long-suffering sigh and mimicked their positions. "Ahem, oh great spirits beyond, we're reaching out to you. Speak with us!"  
  
"Will, _must_ you."  
  
"Shhh, don't disrespect the spirits Hannibal. Now put your hands on the planchett."  
  
"Are you with us spirits? Can you tell us your name?" Will was _really_ hamming it up, playacting for all he was worth with enough over-exaggeration that Abigail couldn't help the stray bouts of giggling threatening to overcome her. Hannibal managed to keep his annoyed mask in place, but seeing Will these way had always been very appealing.  
  
Hannibal could _absolutely_ see Will and Abigail working to move the planchett towards letters of some kind, and decided that he could just as easily play that game... which is why he was able to move the planchett without either of them suspecting. Droll answers at first that a tipsy-bordering-on-drunk Will seemed shocked to get. Abigail seemed still skeptical, freckled nose wrinkled up.  
  
Of course, When Hannibal spelled out 'Will Graham is the worst' everyone at the table caught on, but the men refused to call eachother out.  
  
Will countered with 'Hannibal is boring and no fun.'  
  
'Will snores.'  
  
'Hannibal is a bedhog.'  
  
'Will likes terrible country music.'  
  
'Hannibal has a sneaky stash of store-bought candy that he keeps-'  
  
That seemed to be about as far as Hannibal was willing to allow, as he tossed the planchett across the room. "That is a blatant lie Will Graham!"  
  
After a moment of silence, Abigail begin to giggle. Will followed her and before Hannibal realized it they were all laughing so hard they could barely breathe. None of them saw the way the planchett twitched on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 858 words.
> 
> -sigh-


	18. Becoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Eighteen: Demon

It's foggy, cold. _Too cold_. But not cold enough? Will finds himself shivering against the sand - an offering rejected from the sea. Spat up like bile, landing at the feet of two unlikely men: Hannibal Lecter, standing serene and composed, unmarred by their sudden flight, and Jack Crawford. He lays between them, exhausted, barely able to draw in breath. His body is broken. His body is _dying_. But he can still hear them.  
  
"Well, you've won Hannibal. I'd say it was fair, but you know it wasn't." Jack's voice grumbles like distant thunder, annoyed, but no longer etched in rage and disappointment. _He almost sounds bored._  
  
"I followed your rules, Jack." As always, Hannibal sounds bland. But there's a twitch at the corner of his mouth - an emotion torn between amusement and worry. Jack doesn't see it. _He never does._  
  
"Another one for the bone pile, then?" Two sets of eyes fasten upon him now, and Will struggles, vainly, to face them both. To have dignity in the face of this impossible moment. These two men fought so long and hard to have him, but he'd defied them both. Chosen himself instead - even if that self was much more closely aligned with Hannibal than he'd ever care to admit.  
  
Hannibal looks pleased to see Will struggle, the fight in his eyes. "Oh Jack. How greatly you've underestimated the situation."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
Something is happening. Will doesn't know what. His thoughts are at once hazy and yet much too clear. He drags a hand over to his face and it's like he can see the past millennia in his palm, shifting currents of color and rhapsody and danger. It's _beautiful_. Underneath it he vaguely acknowledges the scrap of polished bone peeking out of his torn skin, but it's with numb indifference. Nothing compares to what's happening to him. Something... _extraordinary_. He can feel it bubbling up from within. Like lava.  
  
It _hurts_. It hurts so much. And it's so bright, blood red everywhere.  
  
"Will's _Becoming_ wasn't part of the game, friend." Hannibal kneels down in the sand without care for his clothing - a three-piece suit, just like he'd worn so long ago. One of his hands brushes against the side of Will's face, easing the agony before he returns his sharp smile to Jack. If Will didn't know better, he'd say Hannibal's eyes in that moment had been red. Terrible, and red. "He's _Become_."  
  
 _Fuck!_ Will screams, thrashing on the ground, clawing at his body. Seizing up violently.  
  
Jack regards this all with a tremor of fear that he cannot hide from Will's all seeing eyes. "What? Hannibal-"  
  
"And isn't it time that you finally see just what it _is_ that he's become?"  
  
Will continues to scream, tendrils of light breaching the cracks in his skin. It's too much, too bright, too everything. _God, how it hurts. Hannibal, Hannibal help me-_  
  
Jack has taken several steps backward, unable to look away. He's afraid. Will can _smell_ it. "Hannibal... be reasonable. He was part of the game. They're _always_ part of the game. It's not personal."  
  
It doesn't seem possible, but Hannibal smiles, and his teeth really _are_ sharp-edged. Vicious in this sudden victory. "I think you'll find it was, to him."  
  
"You're going to pick a human over me? How many decades have we played now? How many have you broken and left behind, once you were done? The _bone pile_. That's your solution. Your grand reward." Jack sounds a little like himself, angry and badgering, trying to be condescending but he's soaked in the acid tang of terror, and it draws Will upward.  
  
He's aching, and so, _so_ hungry, but the blood covering him now isn't concealing any wounds. Not anymore.  
  
"And yours is more honest? More dignified? The grand, great, heavenly host. Chaste, moral, righteous... empty. _Hollow_. Owned to their souls, everything unique about them scoured away in the name of _purity_."  
  
"It's heaven. We're meant to be good, not nice."  
  
On shaking legs, Will stands with Hannibal's helps, attention fastened on Jack. On the fangs in his mouth, the claws that feel so natural on his hands. It feels right, like coming home.  
  
"Well, this is _hell_ , and there are no angels here, only demons. You'll find we're can do whatever it is we'd like."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 716 words and I'm not even apologizing for it.


	19. Did I Scare You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Nineteen: Boo!

"Boo! Did I scare you Nigel?" Adam had just popped out from around the corner, holding an fake gun and pretending to aim at him. His hip was cocked out at an angle, and unfortunately for Nigel Adam was wearing _the smallest shorts he'd ever fucking seen_ , a tight navy button-up with a shiny silver badge, and a pair of aviators tucked within his curls to complete the look. _(Oh god. The badge said Officer Sexy. Fucking hell._)  
  
Nigel very pointedly was ignoring Darko grinning like a goddamn jackal across the room.  
  
A second later Nigel's phone buzzed against his leg.  
  
Darko: _Your boy is adorable, Nigel._  
Nigel: _Shut up._  
Darko: _He's precious, really. Where'd you find this one again?_  
Nigel: _The park, asshole._  
Darko: _Not the schoolyard?_  
  
Attempting to pretend he wasn't seven shades of fucking horny, along with keeping his rapid-fire texting underneath the desk so Adam wouldn't ask about it, Nigel offered his boyfriend one of his more charming smiles. "Is that a uniform? You playing Officer, darling?"  
  
"I know you aren't scared of the police. But Darko thought it would be a good costume for your party, and that you would find it visually pleasing. I don't really understand, as your associates are all criminals and statistically you would think they would have a natural fear of law enforcement, but as this isn't a standard issue uniform he didn't think I would be shot by them." So matter of fact. Jesus, Mary and fucking Joseph Nigel was going to _strangle_ Darko with his bare goddamn hands the _second_ Adam was out of sight.  
  
Another smug look, another text.  
  
Darko: _You're welcome, Nigel._  
Nigel: _YOU TOLD HIM ABOUT MY UNIFORM THING._  
Darko: _No, but that look on his face says he's figuring it out. He's a smart one, your boy._  
Nigel: _I hate you._  
  
Indeed, Adam had his head tilted just slightly to the left, and he appeared to be... _considering_. That never boded well for Nigel. Mostly because it meant soon Adam would be 'testing his responses to this particular stimuli' for the next month or so and it led to the most inappropriate boners _ever_.  
  
Not that Nigel had any intentions of stopping him, which only seemed to make Darko laugh at him more. Prick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 380 words.
> 
> I don't know if any of you have seen those Pixie/Brutus comics on tumblr, but they really, really give me Adam/Nigel vibes?
> 
> Also I AM FINISHING THIS TODAY EVEN IF IT KILLS ME. I had to get some semi-major surgery done on my mouth and it's basically made me a useless lump for the past week and a half.


	20. The World Was Crooked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Twenty: First Frost

"I always used to get excited for the first frost." There's no response - there never is. "I'd wake up early each morning, to see if it had happened yet. This wasn't when I was a kid, mind you. Wasn't much frost in the south. But I moved up here when I was 19, and there was just something so _captivating_ about it, you know? Like real magic. I'd look outside and see the grass tipped in white, the whole world washed out. It didn't matter what time it was, if I had shoes on... that very first time I just bolted out of the door in nothing but sweatpants." He sighed, heavily, shifting on the ground. "I remember the way it felt under my toes, cold, but _sharp_. I loved it immediately, right from the start." His bones protest as he moves again, but Will pays them no mind. "It's how I felt about you. Seeing you in Jack's office. Right there, that was the beginning, and I... I _knew_ it, because it felt just like that." He's half-frozen, but there's nobody around to see him. Not many people who would pay attention to an old man like him anyway. Rosie keeps nosing at his arm, trying to get him up, but he's so _tired_. "I haven't felt that way since the cliff, you know. I came out of that ocean alone, and it was _wrong_. Like the world was crooked, somehow. But I suspect..." His chest is getting heavier. Throbbing, almost. He's felt the pains for a while now. "But I suspect it'll be alright soon." In the distance there are sirens - he hadn't wanted Rosie to be alone out here, in this holy place. A cemetery made of one man, a place nobody knew of but him. He'd even kept it from Jack, selfish to the end, as though denying it would undo the mistake, somehow.  
  
 _"Hello, Will."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 320 words. I'M SORRY IT'S SAD I DIDN'T MEAN TO WRITE ANGST.


	21. Carving Pumpkins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Twenty One: Jack-o-Lantern

"Oh my god." He knew he shouldn't be snickering but... _oh my god._  
  
"And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean, Will?" Hannibal went from pleased and proud to annoyed in no time flat - Will had a knack for doing that, it seemed. Poking the bear.  
  
"You sound like a housewife in a snit."  
  
"You are dodging. I simply asked what you thought. If you can't bother-"  
  
Will held out his hands in a placating gesture before throwing back the rest of his whiskey. Whatever he'd been expecting after their not-argument earlier, it wasn't... this. "Hannibal. You carved an entire saga of our life, including murders, into a series of... like, twenty pumpkins?"  
  
" _You_ were the one who suggested I 'make a jack-o-lantern if I was so hellbent on stabbing something' if I recall."  
  
"Yeah. Jack-o- _lantern_ , singular. I didn't realize you'd get so... carried away."  
  
"I am not a man who does things by half, Will. I still fail to realize why you find my efforts funny." _Goddammit_. That was Hannibal's 'you have hurt one of my three feelings' face.  
  
Sighing, Will moved closer, until he could circle his arms around Hannibal's waist and touch their foreheads together. "Because I'm shit at feelings. They make me uncomfortable. And this is..." _A giant, glaring I LOVE YOU in pumpkin form_. He shook his head. "Forget it, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed. They're beautiful."  
  
And they were.  
  
"But the dogs are going to eat them in like, ten minutes flat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 249 words.


	22. Skull and Bones?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Twenty Two: Bones

"This is some Skull and Bones shit!" Zeller was, oddly, very, _very_ excited for a man knee-deep in unidentified pieces of human bone.  
  
"What?" Admittedly, Will was working on an hour's sleep and zero coffee. It made him... slow.  
  
Meanwhile, Brian was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet while Jimmy sighed and Beverly mimed smashing her face with a clipboard. "Like, the Fraternity? Or is it a secret society? I could never really tell. It's a rich people thing!"  
  
Beverly finally admitted: "What Zeller is trying to reference - _wrongly_ \- is a movie I never, ever should have let him watch."  
  
"How quaint." Hannibal's voice held an edge of mirth to it - he was always delighted by the weird ones they got. Especially when they weren't his own and he was free to meddle.  
  
Jimmy snorted. "And antiquated."  
  
"And - as I said - _wrong_." Beverly's tone held a hint of finality to it, as though the discussion was closed. But Brian Zeller wasn't exactly the quickest on the uptake.  
  
"How is it wrong?"  
  
"How is it possibly related to Skull and Bones?" Beverly fired back.  
  
Sensing a fight, Jack cut in. "Will, you're awfully quiet over there. What's your vote?"  
  
"I didn't realize this was American Idol." In his hands, Will was nursing a special-made coffee that Hannibal had handed him like it was the elixir of life. Honestly, it felt like it might be some days.  
  
Zeller was still adamant that he was right. Somehow. "Come on, stacks of old bones, creepy Latin, it's CLASSIC-"  
  
"Reminds me more of the catacombs of Paris, to be honest. A sort of homage." Is Will's only, admittedly grumpy, response.  
  
"Oh my god, it always has to be fancy European bullshit with you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some free advice, from me to you: don't ever, ever trust a dentist who says they're just going to pull three molars and it'll be just fine. Ten years later it's suddenly 'Oh yeah, that was a bad idea. Now we have to rip apart your mouth and you're going to be braindead for like. A while.'
> 
> That said, I swear I'm going to finish this. Better late than never, right?
> 
> 290 words.


	23. No Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Twenty Three: Zombies

"Not only do you tell bad cannibal puns, but you own _literally_ every single zombie movie I have ever even heard of."  
  
"I find them amusing."  
  
"Of course you do."  
  
"We can always watch something else, if you'd prefer."  
  
"I'm pretty sure I don't want to open that second cabinet. Either it's filled with porn or it's filled with _actual_ cannibal horror movies, and we're both too injured to deal with the fallout of that disagreement."  
  
Hannibal looked appalled at the suggestion that he'd keep porn in an antique lacquered armoire in the living room of his safehouse, because apparently _that_ was crossing the line. Send a man to murder him and he thinks it's flirting, suggest something vulgar like Hannibal Lecter Gets Off To Porn and suddenly it's the end of the world.  
  
Sensing that argument was fast coming if he didn't do something fast Will grabbed the closest DVD to hand and plopped down on the couch, wincing as he did so because everything still hurt like hell from their little swan dive. "Nope. We're not fighting. All fighting is banned until further notice."  
  
Though his mouth thinned mutinously, Hannibal gracefully sat on the opposite end of the sofa. Twenty minutes into the film (that Will wasn't watching, to be honest) Will decided that pouting Hannibal was even more annoying than actively murderous Hannibal and decided to do something about it. "Hey... uh, would you mind?" He gestured to his shoulder, not even having to fake how stiff it still was. _Always my fucking shoulder, I swear the thing is cursed._  
  
"Of course."  
  
Strong, capable hands began to massage Will's shoulders - and gradually the pouting drifted towards contentment instead. Hannibal did always love an excuse to get his hands on Will, more so when it was by invitation. _Maybe this murder husband life won't be so bad, even if I am definitely finding a way to stock that cabinet with really cheesy, graphic porn at some point._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 329 words.


End file.
